


Cigarette Daydreams

by vulpesvulpex



Series: One-Hundred Ways [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Emotionally Constipated Derek, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9162652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpesvulpex/pseuds/vulpesvulpex
Summary: On a car ride home, Derek and Stiles have a little discussion about college. Panic ensues.OR: "I bought you a ticket."





	

**Author's Note:**

> No explicit descriptions of panic attacks, only a hinting at one I guess. Basically, Stiles freaks out and Derek talks him down to relax him. 
> 
> Title from a Cage The Elephant song I was listening to.

 

 

Half the time, Derek wonders how exactly he got stuck with this.

Stile is bouncing in the seat next to him, rambling and literally pulling his hair while frantically eating a piece of gum, jaw chewing and grinding gum and teeth alike. A phone is in his hand, and he’s probably talking to Scott about something life-or-death, or Call of Duty – sometimes, it’s both – and on the hand that’s free, he’s texting someone. Probably Lydia or Isaac to keep them updated or to make sure they’re safe.

The other half, he’s pretty sure he’s glad he’s stuck with this.

He’s a literal flurry of movement, and on top of all of the ADHD components obviously at work, he’s getting something done. Before, Derek used to wonder if this kid just bounced and jumped and fidgeted to move but somehow – although a bit unnecessary – there was a reason to it. A mind behind the manic.

It was infuriating, annoying and almost calming to know that the idiot beside him was okay. He was normal. This – hyperactive, always go-go-go persona, sarcasm, and everything – was normal. He knew Stiles when he was silent, his fingers barely itching to twiddle a pencil in their grips and how his eyes would stay still on one object, or he’d get this far away look in his eyes. That was not normal, though that was normal for Derek.

Normal was relevant in every sense of the word.

Beauty also was.

Because he knew beauty – living in New York City hub of every up-and-coming model trying to make their way with the looks to match their lifestyle, he knew it in all the shades of the rainbow. The women on Harlem, with frizzy hair and freckled cheeks, gapped teeth, and giggly breathing. Men in soft looking polo’s, eyes warm with want and light with abandon. The pink of a child’s skin, soft and excited out in the park or relaxing on their mother’s lap. Dogs wagging excitedly. Mountains seemingly endless, beautiful browns greys and blacks. Thousands of sunsets he hopes he’ll never forget. Stiles Stilinski seemed to wiggle his way in there, as well.

Because he saw Allison for her jawline and dark, earthy eyes as well as her soft-spoken words. He knew how Isaac regarded himself, the tense of his shoulders and the ripples of his muscles. He saw the feminity of Erica and the brash anger, loud and in his face.

 But Stiles seemed more of a draw;  all-encompassing like warmth and happiness as a person. It’s hard to explain, but it’s tangible in a physical sense. He could reach over and touch Stiles right now and feel that warmth. But at the same time it’s like trying to catch a fly with your bare hands. As predictable as Stiles may seem, he’s even less so. He’s intelligent, sharp and witty and fucking smart. Half the words out of his mouth are collateral damage.

“Derek?” He nearly swerved, breath catching in both of their throats. He glared at the road harder, concentrating for the first time in the better of five minutes.

“What?”

“You look seriously pissed. Like more pissed off than usual. And that’s like, a _lot_.” He chewed his gum a little louder, anxiously tying and untying the string of his sweatpants near his thigh. The phone was long gone by now, tucked into his pocket.

“Thinking about you.” Derek responded. Stiles looked blank for a moment before laughing hollowly.

“Good one.” He says, then he starts talking again. “I was talking about college with Scott on the phone. I guess he wants to stay local, but I don’t think he should. It’s just a pack, you know? You went off and you didn’t _die_ or anything.”

“Yeah, well I had my sister with me. Unless you plan on going with him then he’s about as far away from pack as he can get.”

“So, I’m pack now?” He can hear the smile in his voice and he rolls his eyes to not look. Naturally, that would be the only thing Stiles had heard out of his mouth.

“Yes. We’ve been over this before.” His grip on the steering wheel relaxes slightly, but not until Stiles’ lips quirk up. The intersection they’ve come up to is a near dead stop, seeing as an older driver in front of them likes to nurse the gas pedal with her toes. He sighs slowly.

“What do you think about it?” Stiles asks. The car in front of theirs steadily eases forward until it stops, tail lights illuminating their faces in obnoxious red.

“College? I think you guys should go for what you can get. Don’t let the pack keep you from advancing or anything.” He shrugs.

The pack was tricky, since they would all be in different places. For that past few years they’ve gotten lucky – the farthest they got from home was an occasional lacrosse trip. Maybe a summer vacation for a few days. But extended stays were different. They’d come back different, feel different. Smell different.

Not to mention pack strength. A lot of the strength of a pack depended on one another. Sometimes it being strangely, starkly physical. Homesickness left you anxious, feeling out of your skin especially for people who have furry little problems (sans Stiles and Danny) and generally ill feeling. Some just can’t handle it.

“Would it bother you?”

“Not really. If anything, it’ll be good. Finally get some sleep without either of you two dumbasses breaking into my apartment at every bump in the night.” Derek mutters, but Stiles hears him and laughs anyways.

“I think it would be really cool but I was thinking about the strain, you know? On how werewolves are very um… attached to other members of the pack in more ways than just animalistic. You’re as strong as your pack, you know? Maybe you can come visit us.” He sounds like he’s edging onto something, apprehension making his hands fiddle a little harder with the chord.

The car in front of him finally gets their foot off the brake and they roll into actual turning lane. Thank fuck.

“I do have a job, Stiles. I can’t go play big brother for you guys every time you get homesick.”

“As if you wouldn’t miss us.” Stiles snorts. “I was talking about you visiting us, dumbass. Would you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”

“I bought you a ticket.” At that, his heart rate spikes. It was a calm thu-thump before but now it’s jack rabbiting harshly and he thinks Stiles can hear it himself, in his rib cage. It makes his eyes burn

They turn finally, off the highway and onto a less crowded road. The backroads into Beacon Hills seemed especially busy these days. Seeing as it was the end of summer, most high schoolers liked to find alcoves to sit and drink in, make out with their partners of various genders. Right now though, he’s pulled over for a very different reason.

“Oh my God you are so fucking dramatic. This is like that one time you were all like, swooshy hair and devious smile and like ‘I’m the alpha.’ Fuck. Give a guy a break for once.” Stiles likes to talk before the other person gets a chance to, right now being exhibit A. “Before you like, break my face or something I’m trying to be nice. I knew how hard it was when the whole pack had to leave –“

“Stiles.” Derek says.

“- And I knew how broken up Scott was. Him and his fucking _groundedness_. I swear to God he can’t keep it in his pants to save his life. But I knew how much it messed with him and I just don’t want that to happen to you. Okay? Okay.”

“Stiles.” He sighs, long and hard and pinches the bridge of his nose. Beside him, Stiles hearts seems to accelerate impossibly faster. He lays a hand on his shoulder suddenly and he feels Stiles slump underneath his hand. “I’m not going to break your face. Damn. I need you to relax if you want me to keep driving.”

“What?” Stiles asks, voice quieter.

“You frekaed the fuck out and your heart sounded like it was going to beat out of its chest. I’m kind of having trouble concentrating right now.”

“Yeah, me too.” Stiles says faintly. He feels breathing on his hand, close to his fingers that it’s slightly cold. He opens his eyes slowly, seeing Stiles staring at him with a slightly open-mouthed look that’s reserved for him in moments like this.

“I’m not going to punch you but for Christs fucking sake, relax.”

“Are you always listening for my heartbeat like that?” Stiles asks dazedly.

“More or less.” He answers quietly. He remembers last year during a particularly shitty day weather wise, when Stiles had flipped his car and nearly died. Ever since then, he’s been paying particularly close attention to the slightly-off beat of Stiles heart.

“Why?” He sounds incredulous. “Do you do that for everyone? What the hell.”

“I just do. It’s like a habbit and yeah, I do. You would too, if you could. The heartbeat tells as much as words. Sometimes more.” He says quietly. Stiles is still staring at him, eyes brighter than before. The fading light isn’t doing much for Derek, seeing as he’s squinting at Stiles but Stiles looks like a painting, swathed in light pinks and oranges.

“What’s mine like?” His heart rate seems to be slowly going down to normal suddenly, and Derek removes his hand.

“That’s a dry question.” Derek tells him.

“I mean, how’s it different than Scott’s? Or Isaacs?”

“It’s just on a different scale. Like you’re always a half beat faster than his is. A little slower, somehow, too. Like yours takes a while longer to thump, but you’re still ahead of him.” He can hear it right now, far, far off. The faintest beat that Derek is almost sure he’s imagining it but he almost knows its Scott running around the preserve.

“What’s yours like?” Stiles asks. A little bit of drool is forming on the side of his mouth where he’s open-mouthed staring.

“Feel it yourself.” He says. Awkwardly, Stiles removes his hand from the tangle of the knot in his lap to place it gently over Derek’s heart. The heat of his hand seems to seep directly into his chest, the hell of his hand pushing slightly into his nipple. It makes him swallow slightly but otherwise, he stares down at the hand, then at Stiles.

It’s oddly intimate, Derek realizes suddenly. It’s not like this is the first charged instance between him and the teenager but this seems different, more reserved than the other times. Before, it was staring but they’re completely alone. He can barely hear Scott, that’s how alone they are and it makes his skin tingle, right over his heart.

“Yeah?” Stiles says quietly, eyes searching his own.

“Yeah.” Derek agrees, wry smile catching on his lips. Right now, Stiles looks like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. There’s light bouncing off his eyelashes, creating shadows onto Dereks face. Lips soft pink, eyes shining bright.

The other half of the time, Derek is glad for moments like this. He’s glad he’s stuck with this and all of his bright eyes and simmering touches, annoying smiles.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I don't think I'll be writing One-Hundred drabbles about Sterek loving each other but who knows honestly. Also: I start School soon. I doubt I'll be nearly as active as I am now.
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated. All the love, S.


End file.
